Under the Waves
by Shizune-hime
Summary: ...Not so many realize that even Gaia's saviour also experiences tremendous emotion. For once, Aerith lets her resolve go, but within the confines of her beloved sanctuary.


_"I'm not superwoman… but I did what I could. I can't help but think of my decisions, and feel some sort of remorse that I left the people I love behind."_

…Not thirty minutes had passed since Aerith wrote her letter, a habit she had formed since her teen years whether she sincerely wanted to connect to someone, or she simply yearned to employ therapy upon a weary mind such as her own. The blue ink blotted against parchment was sufficient evidence of her incessant pondering of where she, as queen mother of her rare blooms, thought of landing her feet upon. The walls of the sanctuary she so cared for ardently—which endured with its lustre as a rose among the thorns—were slowly losing their grip on the beams that held them up to their apex, which weaved such incoherence and uncertainty into the maiden's thoughts. Infantile fear and worry of the canary mementos the church shielded and its significance of a rugged, yet withstanding faith a population had, entered Aerith as well, and with this she simply asked herself a question:

"_I have already saved what I could for the Planet. But will Gaea and her children still see beauty in the aftermath of its breakdowns?"_

… Such poetic meanderings were subtle conclusions of Aerith's ways in entirety, but for her inherent forthrightness and zeal for what little boon her rugged paradise delivered, her mind concocted such. It was not because of ungratefulness that she pondered, but because of her sheer motherly instinct –almost offering herself as a flare to guide lost souls as if they were ships, sailing along the waves of a bleak sea.

Lissom digits setting a now-folded crisp sheet aside, the floral guardian unlaced her shoes and slid her scarlet bolero off, daintily tossing it onto a solid piece of what once was an ancient pillar. Sitting at the edge of the cool tarn the craggy retreat gathered from the incident with the remnants, the sole survivor of her now non-existent line undid her ribbons, laying them beside her in the hopes that no one would gain the gall to take them away. But why would anyone? They knew her, and the ribbons were significant to anyone… or, at least, that was what she actually hoped.

Levering herself off the edge of the floorboards she slid into the calm, and slightly nippy water, thoughts rewinding, her nostalgia setting her mind in motion—if she'd lived, what would have happened? If the valiant, knight-like nightmare never dawned behind her to leave a mark of reckoning? Perhaps her prayer would have reached a lot more easier; time being of the essence, the plead for a miracle would have been delivered flawlessly. But such circumstances called for paradoxes, and time itself sometimes works against its own clients, leaving no room for mercy, no room for possibilities.

Aerith sank into the cold water, curling up as she let her derriere act as an anchor, eyes closing as she embraced her figure. Water itself was her element, and sometimes acted as a mother, therefore initiating a sense of floating in the womb of a buoyant agent as she let the cold take her into an almost numbing sensation. Nostalgia attacked her like a virus, and she felt her throat thicken as she attempted her hardest not to cry, holding her breath as she could feel her chestnut strands strew out like webs of ebony against the fading light above.

The pool was shallow, and yet deep enough to bring back memories to her of when her time on Gaea was finished—the age of 22 too early for a woman of her standing to be lifted to ethereal rapture, yet ripe for the Planet to take under their wing.

_"It wasn't my time yet… but I was ready."_

A pang of guilt pierced her emotions and spread through her, surging like a bolt of lightning that flashed within a dark room on a stormy evening. Although her death was timely and she chose the path of her fate and its ending, what else was there to feel? Guilt was a powerful thing, adding to a slight tinge of loneliness and forthcoming disappointment. Was it valid, however, for someone so conscious of her decisions to lose all sense of rationality and frivolity against her persona? For someone so established within her circle of friends that understood every step she took along their journey altogether when she was alive… was it reasonable for her to feel such?

There were no choices available any longer. No consideration for revival… life was life. From dust mankind came, and to dust they would return—a very general rule in all of its glory to be understood. And although she was duly settled with the fact that she had already fulfilled her mission as a vessel for the Planet's prayers, the maiden could not help but feel such uncertainty.

… She was glad her friends were not in the dark distance to watch her weep silently, or else she would have felt more than just pain. Aerith Gainsborough, now joining the myriad souls that voyaged the Lifestream yet took the time to manifest in order to spend time with her blooms and relive her time on earth for at least a few hours, let her tears flow and rise as she joined the calm tide of her safe haven… before regaining her composure and swimming up to the surface, gasping for breath as if she lived a second life, but ethereal.


End file.
